


Joyriding

by cecilkirk



Series: fic prompts [10]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Breakup, Frerard, M/M, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 13:21:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6117688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecilkirk/pseuds/cecilkirk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"we share an archangelic cigarette / and tell each other's fortunes"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Joyriding

The night hung heavy on Frank. Dark, dense air sat heavily in his lungs, dwelling in crevices that had only previously been home to cigarette smoke. It had crawled into the parts of him he'd tried to keep secreted away, and he couldn't stop it. The cigarette illuminated a dot in front of him, between Gerard's lips, resting between his fingers. Gerard's eyes were bright, flickering, searching in Frank's for the reasoning he wasn't surrendering.

Frank couldn't tell him the truth. He couldn't do that to Gerard.

There is little room between them as they sit on the steps. Concrete appears in front of them quickly, suddenly, the steps too short and pushing their knees closer to their chests. To Frank, it feels like protection. If anyone had needed guarding, it wasn't him.

Frank follows the orange glow as it trails down to hang between Gerard's knees. He won't look at Frank anymore. Frank doesn't want to look at Gerard either, but he can't help himself. Alabaster features appear even more holy under the moon. Frank thinks there is a tragedy in finding beauty after all their recent history envelops. The shadows created by the cigarette on Gerard's cheeks are terse and superficial. Frank feels the same.

Frank knew he wasn't going to get his cigarette back. He leaves.

Pulling himself upward into the night felt like rebellion. His knees felt fit to buckle under the weight of...everything. His hands shake, and he convinces himself it's because he was missing his cigarette. As if his body was so attuned and addicted to something the immediate absence of it created withdrawal.

He swallows away a newfound tightness in his throat.

Maybe his body was just like that.

Frank lets his feet hit the sidewalk. The heaviness in his lungs begins to drip down into his feet and threatens to stop him, but the concrete pulls him forward, keeping him in motion. It doesn't feel natural, but he permits his body to do so.

He doesn't know where he's going, not anymore. He has no destination; any route he'd ever sketched is pulled from the page, leaving the streets around him flat and open with possibility and potential. Without this guidance, his world feels like subdued chaos. Within him, this echoes; within him, there is muted protest.

And even as he walks away, there is tightness. There is something anchored in his spine, arguing his increasing distance. There is something begging him to turn around. He does not want to turn and see his face.

Frank knows this is something irreparable. He's created a chasm between them forever. No amount of time they could ever wish to have behind them could erode the sharp, cavernous edges. He had done something larger than the both of them. 

He wonders how this is--how the split unity of two people could feel so divisive. How they were so oblivious to the intermingling of their roots. How they were so unprepared to expect this level of destruction.

Frank's eyes meet a menagerie of bulbs inside a restaurant. He knows this sheet of light is made of particles strung together, enough that he can't separate them with his eyes. If he had seen a million orange cigarette ends, would it look like this? Could he make a million different Gerards close enough to become inextricable like this? 

As he stands at the threshold, Frank wonders if this is what the stars look like from far enough away. He also wonders what kind of tragic being would be forced to experience stars as inseparable.

The glass door beckons him in, persuades him with the promise of being drenched in light. He feels his fingers buzz against his thigh. The stars press down on Frank's shoulders, weighing him down. They find a residence in the deepest, darkest parts of his lungs.

He pushes the door open and drags his feet inside.

**Author's Note:**

> \--Allen Ginsberg, "The Green Automobile"  
> This was originally part of a project, but has since been abandoned. Inspired by ["Joyriding" by Frnkiero and the Cellabration](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sR3lo0zYfyI)


End file.
